((Collab between
@Letter Bee and
@Amidatelion))
Intermission Two: Ghosts of Angeles City - Timeskip; Final Six DaysBalibago, Angeles City - 10/20/2022, Philippines, 11:02, UTC+8 Myron patrolled the streets of Balibago, leading a phalanx of military police in body armor and borrowing Noel’s authority to make sure that Balibago’s establishments and residential houses were protected. Under Lotus Squadron’s aerial cover, construction workers were able to carry bags of concrete and hollow blocks, as well as set up metal scaffolding from which they can repair the buildings ravaged by vandals, zombies, and fire.
Window panes were being replaced with new glass, billboards patched up or replaced as well, and Myron had instructed the local junkyards and recycling centers to smelt as much glass and metal as they could for future use.
But it was not enough, although it was certainly more constructive than his previous activities. Either way, despite his efforts, the streets were filled with more vagrants, the storeowners and local residents were more sullen, and there was a cloying smell of urine and excrement due to the local sewers being overtaxed.
It would take years to recover from this even if the war was over, and the status of the Amerasians would degrade further if he didn’t do anything.
Which reminded him to call ‘Sister’ Marta through military comms and ask,
Hey, I’m coming back to Murata’s Ramen House right now; want to meet up with there? You must be tired out from healing dozens of people; you have the right to take care of yourself too, you know?A Haggard voice rings out from the other end of the Comms - the Sister rarely keeps anyone waiting long, whether or not the circumstance is life and death as it was recently.
Hey, Myron! Yeah, that sounds - an unbidden yawn interrupts.
Yeah, that sounds good to me. I’ll just google the address and be right there.Marta had in fact, barely rested recently - just enough to not make herself a nuisance to those she meant to help. But so long as there were still people injured and debris to clear, she felt compelled, nay, obligated to help. To ignore those you can help right in front of you is unconscionable…but it also means that she’d worked up quite an appetite, and a thick bowl of Ramen could have lured her from anything at that point.
A quick trip to the hotel and a splash of water to the face to ensure she was wearing a clean habit and a clean face were needed - it wouldn’t do to show up all slovenly when invited - but within the half-hour she was entering the restaurant fresh-faced, looking for Myron and hoping her energy could hide her eyebags.
Myron was close to the entrance just in case anything happened, and was eating from a bowl of chicken ramen; chickens were still plentiful in the area, after all. Waving hi to Marta as he sat behind a wooden table with some beer stains, on a wooden chair whose upholstery was faded and starting to wear due to lack of maintenance, the young man greeted her with a, “Hi, Marta; want to order something? I’m paying.”
He then sighed and said, “Thank you, for helping clear up the aftermath; things would have been worse without you.”
“Hey, there he is!” With a happy wave, she settles down on a chair in front of him while grabbing the menu.
“And really, thank you - I was just doing my best to help, but it feels good to hear the gratitude. I guess I have to work on my humility, heh.”She browses the combo section for a moment, satisfied that the pictures are indeed, mouthwatering. Added to the aroma of the Chicken Ramen her host is eating, extracted a very undignified grumbling from her stomach.
“But really, I’m even more thankful for the food. I was starving , and I barely realized. So I’m thinking - ” she turns the menu to show the combo options.
“- Should I get the meal with Karaage or the one with Gyoza? I can’t choose.”Myron answered, “Karaage; the chicken is crispy yet tender at the same time. With Ramen, it proves that noodles can be higher-class instead of just poor people’s fare; not that there’s anything wrong with the latter.”
He then sighed in his seat and said, “You don’t need to feel guilt for finding gratitude heartwarming. While you’re not entitled to their gratitude, if the latter is freely given, you should accept it.”
“Hmm… yes, you have a point. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while.”She calls over the wait staff and quickly puts in her order, looking forward to the delicious Karaage and Ramen.
“An excessive concern with being humble and altruistic can easily turn into self-righteousness by itself. I imagine you yourself must’ve been receiving many thanks after what happened.”She crosses her arms over the table with an inquisitive expression.
“What did happen, anyway? I got the gist of it from the news reports, but I was in the middle of the whole thing and I’ve been busy since then. I guess some of the troublemakers weren’t zombies? I had to scold some people on top of everything else.”Myron froze up a little as he said, “People were spreading rumors that the Amerasian population - Descendants of American soldiers, businessmen, and bureaucrats from the time when they Ameri
canos had a base here - were behind the Chinese invasion. Others believed them and formed a mob; it was easier to believe when for three or so generations, the Amerasians were seen as prostitutes or children of prostitutes - Many of them are the latter who become the former just to survive.”
He looked at her, drawing attention to his own pale skin mixed with his Southeast Asian snub nose, and said, “I barely avoided the same fate; ended up in a Spartan Training Program, escaped from there and joined the Disablers and then became an Arms Master… But I digress - Someone mixed in a zombie virus in an already violent situation.”
Then he went silent.
“... I see,” she responds after a few moments.
“That must have been difficult. Frustrating. These are difficult times.”She takes a sip from her ice tea which arrived fairly quickly.
“It can be… disappointing to see people get violent and irrational. I’ve seen it before. Rumors, misinformation, slander… when you start mixing all that into the worries of war, whether or not they’ll live or die… Well, most people aren’t saints. They’ll do bad things. Things they regret.”She has indeed seen it before. You never forget your first angry mob, whether that be a flareup of ethnic conflict in eastern Europe, religious persecution in south Asia, or hate-filled “vigilantes” in small American towns. People can be horrible.
“...People can be horrible… but they can also be better. They just need someone to open that path for them. That’s why someone who makes things even worse - like with the Zombie Virus - can’t be left to roam freely.”Myron nodded in agreement, then said as he ate another few strings of noodles, “We have a suspect already, but he’s gotten away, back to China. With one of us forced to surrender himself in exchange for him not causing any more havoc here for the time being. But let’s talk about how people can be better.”
Looking her in the eye, the former Disabler spoke, “I saw Arms Masters as monsters, nonhuman, holders of power no one deserved to have and which should not be in human hands. But turns out, they don’t have to be that, either - They could simply be people who realized that they themselves can be better than they were right now and chose to follow through. I myself gained my Noble Arm when I saw that the cycle of hatred existed and that whoever wins, all will suffer including the winners - Well, that’s part of that.”
He then ordered a can of beer and a glass from a waitress, then continued, “To be honest, part of me still dreams of a world without Noble Arms, but with the people who would otherwise be Arms Masters still existent. But that will require alterations to the history of the world only the insane would want, at this point. And besides, Arms Masters who come from a place of self-improvement, stemming from knowledge of their own shortcomings, can be an example to all.”
The Sister looks at her hands for a few seconds before replying.
“I spent a lot of time thinking… about why I have this power. Why does anyone? And I think… it doesn’t really matter, ‘why.’” She clenches a fist.
“Noble Arms are power. I think it’s a power that’s been bestowed upon us to do as we see fit. But lots of people have power already - the father over the son, the teacher over the student, the general over his soldiers, and those soldiers over the lives of those they kill. Having power isn’t new. It’s something that already existed.”She puts her hands back on the table, eagerly accepting the Karaage being served.
“I think people like the Disablers, the Virtues, whoever… they’re too taken in by this flashy power, this everyday miracle. But at the end of the day, it’s just power - what matters is that it does not become an excuse. That hasn’t changed. And those who wield power should be good people, but so should anyone.”She brushes a hand along the crucifix adorning her habit.
“Well, that’s my answer anyway. Perhaps you have your own.”Myron smiled and said, “I have my own; it’s similar to yours’. Basically, Noble Arms come from personal change and a willingness to accept it - At least in most cases. And not all change is positive or negative or neutral. Not all is worthy of resistance or submission. But what we’re all obliged to do, is live in symbiosis.
“As time passes and change is accepted and encouraged, we’ll get more Noble Arms, to the point where most Humans have them. But coexistence will still be the best option for us all, if only because cooperation produces more cash.”
He then smiled at that and continued, “Sometimes, greed appeals to people as much as altruism.”
Marta, eating her food, smiles knowingly.
“Well, I can’t really say I approve - spiritually - but your words have the ring of truth to them. I guess it all comes back to people in bad places.”She raises a finger dramatically.
“Man shall not live on bread alone, and all that, but they need the bread first. And if material desire is the carrot needed for people to be decent for a start, then I can’t be too sniffy about it. Ah, speaking of-”The server arrives with a thick, steaming bowl of ramen topped with eggs, pork, corn, and other sorts. The anticipation on the Nun’s face is undisguised as she picks up some of the noodles, blowing on them carefully before dipping them back in and then slurping them all up.
“Oh man, that hits the spot. Love me some Miso Ramen. Hard to get a meal more filling, even back in Europe.”Myron then spoke, “Yep. So, want to spend the meal in relative quiet? These walls still have ears, after all…”
“Oh, let’s just have some small talk, you and I - it’ll be fun! So anyway…”
Izurich
Damycles
Alby47